From owner-ius-l@AMERICAN.EDU Thu May 2 14:56:43 1996
Date: Thu, 2 May 96 13:39:55 CDT
To:
From: "LECHNER.LAUREN"
Subject: Reflections on CAL50
The California 50 mile endurance trail run was an adventure in
self-discovery. I shared much with you all along the way, as I planned and
trained for it, and I have to say that this has been a perfect example of a
journey being every bit as meaningful as the destination (if the actual race
and completion of it can be viewed as the destination).
The idea grew from a mystique I felt when reading about some of our dead
ultra runner's adventures. I gradually crept up within range so that I began
to be able to imagine actually doing one myself. Then, after completing two
shorter ultra races last year, (Skyline 50K and the Quadruple Dipsea) I set a
goal: I wanted to run 50 miles on trails sometime in 1996. As always, my
basic assumption was that I would enjoy myself while doing it -- I didn't
want to kill myself! =:-o
So, then when it came time to pick the race, I was particular about a couple
of factors that right away would make or break the enjoyment aspect: I
wanted a small race, and I wanted it all on trails -- no pavement! CAL50
presented itself as an excellent candidate. Mind you, at the time I had
spoken to no one who'd ever done it before. That's me and my
single-mindedness for ya...later on when I found out how difficult the course
actually was, (I imagine you got a pretty keen sense of that from Dave's
write-up) I was not discouraged...in fact, it made it that much more of a
challenge to me.
The primary things I wanted to overcome within myself were all related to
my sense of self-doubt -- that I could ever do 50 miles. Was my body strong
enough? Could I learn to feed and water it correctly? Could I train my mind
to hang-in there for as many hours it would take? These were the big
unknowns. These were the challenges.
It just so happens that I loved the classroom! :-) I have been having the
time of my life these past nine months. (Yep, it was just nine months ago
when Steve Patt first escorted me and my healing femur up to the top of Black
Mountian with Jane Colman!) I'll spare you all of the individual lessons, as
I know you've already read or heard about them. I want to share with you
some of the aspects of this race that were unique to it being the 50 miler,
though. Things that made it an experience I shall always remember.
The First Loop:
What was it about that particular race that made it an unforgetable
experience?
Well, part of that answer is directly proportional to how frightened I was
prior to doing it. As many of you know, I was a nervous wreck. Some of you
have seen and heard me before my Alcatraz Biathlons and know how frightened
and unsure of myself I am -- (that is the standard to which I compare all
other events) -- and I was just a tad under that level of nervousness. It's
ironic in a way...much of the fear prior to Alcatraz has to do with
respecting what the incredibly cold water could potentially do to my body --
render it unable to swim. At CAL50, I was fearful of the heat. In the weeks
prior to my race, I was reading and hearing all about the medical emergencies
related to the heat in ultras...dehydration, electrolyte imbalances, etc.
Just as in the water, I could be as strong as ever, but if I was not smart, I
would run up against big trouble in the medical arena. (Of course, smart at
Alcatraz translated into cold-water training and state-of-the-art gear.)
Smart at CAL50 meant all kinds of heat training, listening to the sage advise
of the other ultra runners with regard to food and fuel intake, pacing and
patience. Good thing I am a patient person! :-) But, I digress...
There is something sacred about arriving at a trailhead in the middle of the
woods before dawn, and identifying the registration table where I had to pick
up my number, because it shone the only flashlight in the clearing. I knew
full well when I shivered over to the flickering light where a little group
had gathered that I would be as hot, tired and thirsty as I'd ever been -
before I sat down again that day. It was an awesome consideration!
There were half a dozen people there whom I had met and run with before -
including Dave - who I run with all the time. As much as I felt this was a
private mission, I was somehow comforted by those familiar people around me.
There really is a very special feeling that you get when you are embarking on
such a private and deep challenge in the company of others on a similar
journey. Words to capture that feeling evade me.
Another hurdle I crossed, and one that I had not yet before seriously
encountered, was the omnious cut-off time. We had to complete the first 25
mile loop in five and a half hours, or would be pulled from the race. Given
the terrain of Annadel State Park, that presented me with a challenge. Due
in large part to my lack of experience, I took my good-old-time for the first
90 minutes of the day, chatting with other runners and nervously assessing
the course. By the time I realized, I had set my back against the wall...the
next three hours were overshadowed by a constant pressure to make it back to
the start. I've never run with that kind of self-created anxiety before.
I'd actually rather never do it again, either! ;-)
The Second (and final) Loop:
Indelibly etched in my mind was how, the second time around, I had to reach
within myself for the resources to keep going. I say had to, but it really
happened automatically...that was partly what was so neat. Normally someone
whose focus is always on the surroundings (other runners and the
environment), I found that I was drawn ever more inward as the day wore on.
I never let myself think that I could not do it. As soon as I passed the
thirty-something miles of the course, I kept reminding myself -- marveling,
actually -- at how I was now in unchartered territory! No matter how hot and
worn-out my legs felt, I was constantly delighted at what I was discovering I
was able to do. This fueled me.
I traveled alone for a couple of hours during the early part of the
afternoon. I did a lot of self-examination during those miles. I found
myself drifting in and out of my own inner world, into the one where I was
finding myself on the same trail for the second time that day. Frankly, the
familiarity of that world soothed me, and I could retreat back to my inner
world, where I seemed to be getting all of my strength.
With several hours left to go, I caught up to one of the runners I had
mentioned earlier -- an experienced ultra runner who Dave had introduced me
to on several of out long runs in the Santa Cruz Mountains -- Ron Kovacs.
Ron and I had been playing leap-frog several times already that day, and
rather than pass or be passed at this late stage, we began running together.
We talked. He is wise.
As I tired and wanted to walk for a spell, Ron paused and walked, too. He
realized we'd been helping each other all day long, and he said he wanted to
continue that way if I did. I was quite touched -- recognizing that as tired
and drawn out as I was feeling, I was able to give something to someone else.
I was flattered, too, having heard many stories about what a fine and
experienced runner Ron was. Unfortunately for him, but clearly a blessing
for me, was the fact that he was having a tough day. So, I learned how to
pull and how to let myself be pulled. I learned how to talk at just the right
times, and when to be quiet. I felt a bond develop with Ron that I am sure
you other ultra runners have felt before. I really liked that.
I also discovered something else...I realized, that as thrilled as I was that
day -- with this being my first 50-miler experience -- I had reached a point
of diminishing returns after the first loop. There were periods of
up-feelings, but they were not sustained like they were during the first five
hours. I honestly have to say that I am a five hour (give or take an hour)
runner on trails. After that, it's just not the same. It sorta reminded me
of when I used to drink...I would have a certain number of drinks to feel
really great, but then I wouldn't stop. Things really never got any better
after that point, I just got drunker. Okay, so it's not exactly like
drinking...but for me, with the exception of a few special occasions in my
life, I want to hang back in that four to six hour range for trail running.
It provides me with a challenge, but plenty of thrilling feelings, too.
After the Race thoughts:
So there I was - at the finish line - tired, but not much more so than after
any other long run. It was like a dream and I had to keep pinching myself --
I'd done it -- I'd REALLY done it. I'd run for a whole day -- for a little
more than eleven hours -- from before sunrise to evening! UNBELIEVABLE!! It
was really wierd, because I felt so normal, yet I'd just done something that,
to me, was really unbelievable! I was on a cloud! Absoulutely!
That wonderful, I-can't-believe-this-is-me feeling lasted a couple of days.
As I said, though, I felt so normal, that it was more - every time someone
who knew I'd done it (as if there is anyone who didn't, right?) ;-) said
something to me - I'd float back up onto my cloud.
I wish I could describe what that felt like, but I'm not sure I'd be able to
do it without the contrast that happened to me on Monday at work. Out of the
blue, I got called-back for a second mammogram. The baseline films I'd
ordered from Baltimore last January had finally arrived and upon comparing
them, my doctor was concerned. He wanted me to come in for another one on
Wednesday afternoon.
I felt deflated. I am already overly sensitive to the whole breast cancer
idea since my mother's going through it right now, and I just did not know
how I could even contain that thought for myself. Heck, I had been feeling
immortal. I had just discovered that I could do what I'd never dreamed of.
How could someone just call me up and remind me of my fragile humanness --
just like that???
All of a sudden, traipsing around on the hot and rugged trails of Sonoma all
day didn't mean very much to me. What if next month I couldn't even ride my
bike to work 'cause I was going through chemotherapy treatments? What if I
never ran again in my life? Who would I be? What would I do? Who would
care?
These and many other extreme thoughts have been racing through my head for
the past two days. I have felt fragile and vulnerable...not the girl who
romped through the mountains for eleven hours! Still, in defense of my dear,
dear friends, if you had not been as involved in my life these past few days,
I do not know what I'd have done. As it is, I stood-up a wonderful dinner
encounter at Steve's house with Hinkmond, Josh and Debi tonight. I just did
not have the resources to go out again, and I feel just awful about that.
Anyway, they told me I should hear from the doctor in one or two days after
he reviews this afternoon's tests. I'll tell ya, there has to be some link
between the deep inner strength I discovered and tapped into on Saturday, and
the strength and will to live a person must find when faced with an adversity
like cancer. I think of Loreen often. Perhaps that is the strength she has
tapped into.
Well, whatever I find out this week, I just need to keep reminding myself
that my running and other athletic strengths are not as compartmentalized as
I sometimes think. I need to work on how to tap into those resources for the
other things in my life, too.
This has been quite an experience. I sure never suspected what news would be
waiting for me back at the finish line...but then, do any of us?
I thank you all for the support and encouragement you have given me --
Lauren
Cupertino, CA
LPLechner@aol.com
lechner.lauren@principal.com